


That Guy

by cjmarlowe



Category: Dirty Sexy Money, Political Animals
Genre: Club Sex, Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmarlowe/pseuds/cjmarlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy totally knows him, he swears he does, he just can't figure out from where.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Guy

Jeremy's just finished snorting cocaine off his friend Mike's girlfriend's left tit, brushing off his nose with a practiced swoop and pinch, when spots the guy stepping out of a stall and gives him a bright, crooked smile. 

"Hey, I know you!"

The guy looks at him over his shoulder as he runs his hands under the tap. There's no one else in there with them, and no one's come through the door for a while, which is actually kind of weird, when Jeremy thinks about it.

"No, you don't," he says finally, and reaches past him for a paper towel, drying his hands. "But we can be great friends if you've got some more of that."

Jeremy does, indeed, have some more of that, and dangles it enticingly from between his fingertips. "I do, though, I know you."

"I just have one of those faces," he says. "You know you're in the men's room, right?"

Jeremy is confused by the question until he realizes that the guy's talking to Mike's girlfriend, who just smiles at him and offers him her as-yet-unpowdered tit.

"Oh, hey, I don't think you want to do that," Jeremy says, covering her up again because it's different when _he_ does it with her, they've all three of them—Jeremy, Mike and Mike's girlfriend—done all kinds of shit together with and without their clothes on, but she's too high to make good decisions right now and this guy's still a stranger, even though Jeremy totally knows he knows him.

She can get mad at him for it later, if he's overstepped. He'll take that chance.

"Yeah, thanks for that, but I'll pass," he says anyway. She's still smiling when she does up her buttons. "On the cleavage that is, not the coke. Thank god, man, the secret service has been on my ass all night and I haven't been able to score."

"The secret service?" says Jeremy, then he remembers he's seen this guy on TV, with all the political election stuff. "Oh yeah! You're that guy."

"Sure," he says. "I'm that guy."

Mike's girlfriend leans in close, almost kittenish, tells Jeremy she's going to go find Mike. Since he knows Mike's right outside the bathroom door, he nuzzles her hair and lets her and really wishes he could remember her name. He's sure he knew it an hour ago. He also wishes he remembered what club he was in.

"You are, though, right?" says Jeremy. "That guy?"

"Yeah," he says, and it's a different yeah this time. Jeremy's not book smart but he's not dumb, he knows when he's being patronized and when he's getting an honest answer. This time the guy is finally admitting it. "But you're that guy too."

"I am _totally_ that guy," says Jeremy. "Shhh, don't tell my dad I'm here, though."

"How about I don't tell yours if you don't tell mine?"

"Totally," said Jeremy, and held up the little vial again. "So, you want?"

"I want," says the guy, Jeremy _really_ wishes he could remember his name. Especially when he reaches over and undoes Jeremy's top button. "Oh, hey."

"What?" he says. "You got to do it off hers, I get to do it off yours, right?" 

Jeremy grins at him and opens another button and he remembers, suddenly. Not because of what they're doing, but just out of the blue. "We met once, when we were kids!" Well, not kids, but about eleven or twelve years old. "That boring fundraiser. We had to wear ties." 

"Jesus," says the guy, _TJ_ , Jeremy finally remembers when he thinks about them playing in the hallways at that fundraiser and not the unhappy guy he sees on TV sometimes, usually the news which he doesn't really watch. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Me too," says Jeremy, opening his shirt and exposing his collarbone. "I hate fucking ties."

"Me too," says TJ, then he's laying out a line of coke along Jeremy's collarbone and then inhaling it in what feels like one motion. He turns around in a circle after that, then bounces a little on the balls of his feet and leans in and kisses Jeremy.

Jeremy's still holding his shirt open. For a second he doesn't know what hit him.

"I'd ask you to get out of here with me," says TJ, "but I think my mom's instructed the secret service to take anyone who tries into custody, and she's more persuasive than I am."

"So we can't leave, but they're not going to come in?"

"No windows in here," he says, shrugging. "With me, they're more worried about me escaping and getting in trouble than me getting shot or anything."

"I'm not going to shoot you," says Jeremy. He's never been with a guy without a girl too but really, that's just a technicality and he knows it. He is all in. Everyone knows TJ's been gay forever; he's probably really good at this.

"Of course you're not," says TJ, unbuttoning the rest of Jeremy's shirt. "You're Jeremy Darling. You pay other people to do those things for you."

"That's my dad," says Jeremy. "I pay other people to do things _with_ me." But that sounds a whole lot sadder than he meant it to by the time it comes out of his mouth. "Not everything."

"You don't have to explain," says TJ, mouth grazing over Jeremy's jawline, and Jeremy thinks maybe he means it. Not that TJ doesn't want to hear it, but that Jeremy doesn't _need_ to explain. Or maybe he's overthinking it, his brain is racing right now and also his dick. His dick is not racing. It's just there, getting in the way of everything else.

"You good?"

"I'm great," says TJ, and smiles at him. "So if you're not going to shoot me, what are you going to do?"

"Fuck you, if I'm lucky," says Jeremy. He's slept with a lot of people and he almost always falls halfway in love with them when he does, and TJ is no exception. He wants to fuck him hard and get lost in him at the same time.

"Or get fucked?"

"Or whatever," he says, and grabs a handful of TJ's shirt that feels slinky in his grip, and tries to make his wandering mouth come back to Jeremy's lips for a little while, so he can rub up against him.

TJ presses him back against the sinks, ridge of the countertop just sinking into his skin, a bite that's just enough to keep him in the here and now. When they kiss it's ferocious, tongues and teeth and sharp, hard breaths. Hands roaming everywhere, over clothes, under clothes, restless and curious.

"Or I could blow you," says TJ, mind skittering over to the next option. Jeremy is right there with him. "Right now."

"Right now," Jeremy echoes him, shifting his hips like just doing that might loosen his jeans to the point that they'll get out of the way. "Yeah."

"And then you can blow me."

"And then I can blow you," says Jeremy. He's done that. He's pretty good at that, actually, or maybe people just tell him he's good at that, he's not sure. People tell him he's good at a lot of things he's actually not. He doesn't think TJ will lie to him, but then he doesn't think anyone is going to lie to him until they do. "Or something."

"Or something," says TJ, and his mouth is already on Jeremy's collarbone again, licking up the stray particles of coke, dropping to his knees and looking up at him like Jeremy is his champion. Jeremy's had lots of people on their knees in front of him, maybe too many people, but he's never seen quite that look on their face.

He's not thinking about twelve-year-old TJ anymore, about sneaking into the kitchen with him, annoying the hell out of the catering stuff until some long-suffering cook, who'd probably done about a thousand of the things, took pity on them and gave them some snacks in the corner if they promised to be good and not tell anyone where they'd been.

Jeremy never told anyone, or maybe nobody cared. He didn't know if TJ ever told anyone, or if he even remembers.

The TJ in front of him isn't that boy anymore, any more than Jeremy is. Jeremy is thinking about him as someone new.

He doesn't even pull Jeremy''s pants down to his thighs, just opens them as far as he needs to and pulls him right out of them, sucking the tip like it's the end of a lollypop or something. Jeremy wants to tell him it's a popsicle, not a lollypop. He can suck the whole way down. But then TJ does something with his tongue and Jeremy's whole body shakes and he figures that TJ doesn't need any advice from an amateur like him.

He's pretty sure _he_ should be the one kneeling in front of _TJ_. But they'll get there, he figures. He's never been to church outside of weddings and funerals, but if there was ever a time to worship this might be it.

He's hard as hell but it takes him a long time to come, to even get close. It feels great and greater and greatest and it feels like it might go on forever. TJ pulls back and rubs his jaw for a minute and when his mouth closes around Jeremy's dick again his hand wraps around the base too and starts jerking in time.

Nothing lasts forever, or so people tell him. Lots of things in Jeremy's life have lasted forever. Sometimes he thinks nothing ever really changes. But this, this isn't going to last forever. This is going to be over very soon now.

He realizes they're not being quiet, he's crying out a little every time he breathes and TJ isn't shy about his grunts and moans as he sucks his dick. Jeremy's even louder when he comes, and being a bathroom it echoes all over the place in weird ways.

"Coke dick, Jesus," says TJ, then he's giving Jeremy a slow grin and standing up and leaving his dick right there, dangling out of his jeans, moist and sticky. "Come on, come on."

Jeremy kisses him just as fiercely as they had before, doesn't worry about where that mouth's just been. He just wants to feel the crush of it, the hard hotness of it, the desire that he knows is going to burn out but that he soaks up while it lasts all the same.

He sticks his hand in TJ's pants and his dick is so hard, crushed a little by the pressure of his clothes. He doesn't undo them, doesn't even think about it for a second, forcing his hand to curl around it and it's so damn tight he can hardly move. TJ's the one who reaches down, undoes his jeans and gives Jeremy just enough room to work.

He looks into TJ's eyes and he starts jerking and for a second he _really_ thinks he should be kneeling with a mouth around that dick but this right here is kind of worshipping him a little too. Jeremy is better at this with his hands anyway, and TJ deserves the best he can give. Plus, he's not sure how long his jaw was going to hold up.

They never break eye contact, not the whole time. Jeremy's not even sure he blinks, but he must at some point because it never feels weird. TJ still groans and grunts with the motion of Jeremy's hand and Jeremy is still panting and his body is having these weird aftershocks where his knees feel a little weak and his head feels a little light and that's probably the coke a little but mostly the orgasm and the ongoing sex.

He has to grip the countertop with one hand while he jerks TJ off with the other, even though there's not much to grip, and his arm gets sore and they never kiss again, they just look at one another. And he keeps going, fast and slow and soft and mostly hard because he feels so good, and because TJ feels so good.

TJ comes messy but what the hell, why not, they are in a bathroom after all. And he laughs when he comes, and low, fast laugh that sounds real. It sounds happy. 

Jeremy lifts his hand and thinks about it for a second and then he tastes it. What the hell. It's probably polite or something, since he never actually made it down. It's a little weird, but not bad. He sucks on his finger a little longer, while TJ watches.

"Is that supposed to be hot? It's kind of hot," says TJ. He pulls Jeremy's hand from his mouth and kisses him again, though.

"I think I kind of have that thing," says Jeremy. "An oral fixation?"

"I like that in a guy," says TJ, and holds him there for a few moments.

But nothing lasts forever, and that feels a little more real this time than the last time Jeremy thought it. He can see an end in sight. Eventually he tucks in and zips and buttons, even though he still feels completely undone.

"I need to get out of here before someone calls a SWAT team," says TJ. Jeremy's pretty sure that's not something that would actually happen, but only _pretty_ sure.

"I've got..." Jeremy gestures at the door. "Friends?"

"That girl," says TJ, nodding his head. That's not who Jeremy was talking about, but maybe she's a friend, kind of. As much as Mike is. "Maybe I'll see you the next time my family wants to ask their rich friends for money."

"You'd make it worth coming," says Jeremy, as if his father would ever in a million years let him come along to one of those ever again. Those were the domain of the respectable members of his family. That was Patrick's scene. "Maybe we'll..."

He thinks he can probably figure out how to get in touch with TJ, if he remembers, later. His dad probably knows someone.

"Yeah, maybe," says TJ. He smiles that smile again, the one that doesn't quite go all the way up to his eyes, then he backs his way through the bathroom door and Jeremy is alone.

He checks himself in the mirror but the reflection looks blurry and he doesn't really care anyway. He forgets what's left of the coke beside the sink and doesn't realise it until they're back in the limo later, but whatever.

There's always more where that came from. There's always more of everything, in Jeremy's world.


End file.
